


There's No Place Like Home

by perilouspage



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: ...after a bit of a break, F/M, POV Third Person Limited, Post-Canon, Rebuilding Hyrule, Selectively Mute Link (Legend of Zelda), Slow Burn, Trying very hard to be BOTW canon compliant, mentions of the champions, only one bed trope
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:55:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24612643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perilouspage/pseuds/perilouspage
Summary: The Princess and her Knight have fought diligently to save Hyrule. Link had dragged himself back from the brink of death to reunite with his Princess and help her defeat the Calamity; the Princess herself had won a battle of spirit lasting a hundred years.They are tired, and they are grieving. They need time to heal.What they really need is a week's vacation.
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

“I suppose it makes sense,” Zelda said, “given what we know. If their spirits persisted after death to see their duties as Champions through… it’s only logical that, once Ganon was sealed away, they felt their purpose had been fulfilled. They left our realm.”

Link simply nodded, watching her speak. Sat cross-legged on her Zora waterbed, hands clasped under her chin in thought, the Princess looked immeasurably tired. She wore a white nightgown, scavenged from her closet within the castle and yellowed with age. Her hair was neatly plaited down her back. The bruises and scrapes on her face had finally faded, but the sleepless bags under her eyes still remained. They were the same as the bags Zelda had while the Champions had still been banded together, helping her hunt down the springs. Perhaps they were the very same ones, Link realized, kept on her face by the same magic that had stopped her aging while she fought the Calamity.

When Link offered no input, she continued: “Thus, it stands to reason that, without their pilots, the other Divine Beasts have ceased to function as well. That brings our priority list to two: rebuild Hyrule, and find and train new Champions for the Beasts so that we can keep the kingdom safe.”

Again, Link offered no other response than a nod.

“Are you listening, Link? This is important business.”

A third nod; truly, he hadn’t followed much of Zelda’s musing at all. A nod or an emphatic grunt usually kept the Princess engaged in her own thought process, though.

A few beats of silence passed before Link realized his mistake. All Zelda did was wrinkle her nose-- one of her old tells, irritation fighting through a diplomatic facade-- and he knew he’d lost the thread of the conversation. Heat rising to his face, he signed, “Sorry. I was distracted.”

She sighed at him. “Maybe we should simply lay the topic to rest and continue the discussion tomorrow. I’m running us ragged. We both deserve some sleep.”

“We need a holiday, a break,” Link signed. “Ganon isn’t here anymore, we could take a week in Hateno Village to rest.”

At that, Zelda picked up the candle from their shared bedside table. “Now I know you’re sleep deprived. The Hero I know doesn’t take vacations.” The light glanced off the Zora Inn’s silvery decor as Zelda made to blow the candle out.

“Zelda,” Link said aloud.

Her eyes drifted upwards, hand still cupped around the tiny flame. “Yes?”

“I… I…” Words failed Link. Frustrated, he instead began to sign. “Zelda, I knew the Champions left us. I felt them leave.”

She slowly lowered both hands. “Link?”

“They lent me their power during my journey,” he continued. He touched the center of his chest. “I felt them, here. When we left the castle… I felt empty. They left me.”

Zelda’s eyes followed a slow path from Link’s hands, to his chest, to his eyes.

In a flash, Link recalled several instances where Zelda’s green eyes had looked into his own in the same manner. Each memory felt the same as what she was doing now; her face filled with a sudden sadness, and she looked into Link’s eyes like she was only now truly seeing him at all.

The pair sat in silence for a moment that stretched on and on, Link feeling bare and open before the Princess’ gaze.

Slowly, Zelda’s shoulders drooped. “I’m sorry, Link. You’re grieving all over again, and I’m so stubborn I hadn’t noticed.”

At that, Link leaned over the gap between their beds. “We’re both grieving,” he signed awkwardly. He touched her shoulder consolingly, lifted the candle from her grasp, and blew it out.

Both settled into their beds soon after. Zelda hadn’t been wrong; they were run ragged, and Link felt himself being pulled into sleep the second his head hit the pillow. The last thing he heard before drifting off was Zelda, muttering into the darkness: “Maybe we do need a break.”

* * *

Though the Zora royalty hadn’t been shocked by the news of Mipha’s passing, the mood of the throne room was heavy nevertheless. King Dorephan sat high on the throne, face unreadable, while Sidon stood before the Hylians. 

“So,” Dorephan boomed, “What is our plan of action, Princess?”

Zelda glanced to Link, who flicked his head forward in encouragement. They’d rehearsed what to tell the Zora before entering the throne room; it was only a matter of delivery now.

“We believe the Zora should begin recruiting the youth of the kingdom,” she said. “It would be wise to consider the need for a new Champion.”

At that, Sidon stepped forward. “But, Princess Zelda! You and your courageous knight have thoroughly banished the Calamity from the land! What need do we have for the Divine Beasts?”

“It’s doubtful we’ll see Ganon again in any of our lifetimes,” Zelda said. “But I believe it’s wise to be prepared nevertheless.”

“As we begin that process,” King Dorephan said, “where will our Hylian royalty be?”

“We intend to leave Zora’s Domain for Hateno Village,” she replied. “We know of a construction company there that may help us rebuild Hyrule Castle. We'll spend one week there to gather the company, and once we've secured plans to rebuild, we’ll visit the other kingdoms and relay the same message to them that we have to you.”

While Dorephan seemed ready to approve, Sidon didn’t look convinced.

Link cleared his throat and asked, “Sidon?”

Sidon tucked his hands behind his back and grinned to Link. “I apologize. I’m simply uneasy, you see… The role of Champion has proven to be a life-threatening one, and to ask another youth to step forward while we aren’t even sure of their need…”

Link peered to Zelda for permission to contribute, which she granted with a sweep of the hand.

“We don’t need a Champion tomorrow. Take your time to recover from the Calamity, and from the loss of Mipha. Begin to rebuild when you’re ready. We aren’t rushing,” he signed. Then, with a slight grin, he continued, “Maybe take a break. There’s a pond outside my house in Hateno Village.”

Sidon visibly sputtered, his diplomatic expression faltering in surprise. Zelda could barely suppress her own surprised giggle, and even King Dorephan chuckled. Link grinned to Sidon, and then to Zelda; they’d needed the levity.

“Fair enough, Hero,” Dorephan responded. “We thank you for your time and collaboration.”

“And we thank you for yours,” Zelda said, bowing her head. “Now, if we’ve any hope of reaching Hateno Village, we’d best begin our trip.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to write a fic where Zelda and Link got stuck sharing a bed, and before I knew it I was poring over the in-game map and taking screenshots of the inside of Link's house. It was supposed to be quick, and now I've written three chapters and counting. I tried stupidly hard to keep it canon compliant, but I've definitely also taken a few liberties. Let's just have fun with it.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and please let me know if you'd like to see this fic continue!


	2. Chapter 2

Getting to Hateno Village was far easier said than done.

Sidon helped Link load the horses with saddlebags, while Zelda took stock of each thing packed. Her mare, Princess, was laden with personal effects, clothing and documents salvaged from Hyrule Castle, while Link's mare, Apple, carried the rations and medicine. The Prince fussed over them for another twenty minutes before they were finally able to assure him they were set to leave.

“And you’re sure you have enough water?” Sidon asked, trailing alongside Link’s horse at the entrance of the Domain. “It’s hard to find pure water on the road. You might not need as much as a Zora, but still--”

“Sidon,” Link whined.

“Alright,” he acquiesced. As the pair of horses and their riders kept down the road leaving the Domain, he continued to shout, “Be safe on the road! I have no doubt that you’ll keep yourself and Princess Zelda far out of harm’s reach!”

After escaping the Prince, the journey stretched before them. The pair were no strangers to monotonous rides on horseback; Zelda occupied time by pointing out different landmarks or species of wildlife they passed, while Link would hum different tunes.

The roads carried them past the Wetlands and through Kakiriko Village, days and nights melding together. Stops for rest were few and far between. “We’ll save the rest for our destination,” Zelda insisted, as Link fought to keep his head from rolling forward. The Princess hadn't even allowed for more than a mere passing hello to Impa and Paya, which was cut short by a stocking-up with the pitifully understocked local trader. As they traveled on, he chewed on dried meats and fruits to keep his energy up, but never quite felt satisfied with the travel food. He longed for the sweet boiled crab dishes of the Zora, the hearty stews of Kakiriko, or the rich apple-based desserts of Hateno.

The lack of monsters didn’t ease their way, either. Link became paranoid about bandits and Yiga as they approached more populated areas, and though he knew each step brought him closer to good rest and a full stomach, he became more and more agitated. A few miles out from Hateno Village, the skies turned a stormy gray. It began to pour, and before long, the horses were working across the muddy trail as if it were coated in molasses. Still, the pair powered on, their horses plodding side-by-side at a diligent pace. The poor Princess, hood of her heavy traveling cloak completely soaked, occasionally shouted to Link over the din of the storm.

“And Prince Sidon was afraid we wouldn’t have enough water!” she yelled. “If water and air are the same to the Zora, they certainly wouldn’t mind it here!”

However, the fortunate thing about storms in Hyrule was that they could never rage on for long. By the time the Hylians had passed between the Midla and Ginner Woods, the rain had slowed to a mist, and then to nothing. The glow of the Village’s many fires crept around the hillsides and through the gloom.

With a sound of excitement, Link urged his mare forward, waving to Zelda to follow behind him. He was thrilled to show the Princess the little homestead he’d carved out for himself, thrilled for a week of home cooking and solid sleep.

Hateno Village merged with the countryside. First came the sparse farming steads, where suspicious townsfolk peered at the unusually heavily-packed guests from their muddy fields. Then, the dirt path slowly transitioned to a cobbled one; to the left, the bulk of the town’s infrastructure gathered beneath apple-laden tree branches, and to the right, boxy residential homes sprouted up like out-of-place flowers.

Link was now fully in front of Zelda, leading her up the town’s main road. He took the right into the residential area and slowed, glancing over his shoulder and humming insistently.

Zelda grimaced at him. “I… wouldn’t have pegged you as the modern type.”

Link snorted and shook his head, gathering his reins in one hand to point far ahead. There, a wooden bridge crossed a rushing stream, with another property positioned beyond. It was hard to make out in the gloom and the twilight, but it was obviously there.

“Oh,” she finished.

Link hardly heard the concession, though; with a grunt, he was swinging himself down from his saddle. He turned to Zelda, his hands finally free, and signed, “Home is up there. I have to lead Apple across the bridge, though. She hates the water.”

He barely gave the horse time to register the bridge as a threat. He rummaged in a saddlebag to pull out one of her namesakes, and then waved it at Apple. Her eyes locked onto Link’s hands, and as he began a steady walk forward, fruit held high, she began a single-minded trot after it.

Then, finally, the pair reached their destination. A plaster and wood home stood solitary on the land, with a narrow door and a wooden sign in front. The sign read "Link's House", carved with care. A garden of flowers and vegetables led around the side, overgrown and gone to seed from Link’s absence. It was familiar and comforting in a way that nothing else was.

“Welcome,” Link signed, his hand fast with excitement, "to my home."

Zelda, reins in hand, slowed. Her grin spread slow and wide across her face. “Oh, Link,” she said. “You managed to keep this place, even after a hundred years. It’s been so long since I’ve seen it!”

Link’s excited hands froze before him, his expression falling. His eyes tracked from Zelda, to his front door, and back again. Quiet stretched for one beat, two, three. Then, confused, he signed, "Keep?"

The happy smile on Zelda’s face twitched. It was a split-second expression, but Link noticed. “Yes, keep,” she said slowly. “It was your home before the war, Link.”

She said it as if she were the confused one. What did the Princess have to be confused about here, Link thought, when she was the one speaking nonsense?

Unless…

“I…” Link said, voice low. “I forgot.”

It made sense, after a few moments of thought. The villagers had all implied that the home had been suddenly abandoned, left vacant for about a hundred years. And Purah's lab was just a hike away from here; it would be logical, then, to set up a homestead within travelling distance of both her and Impa. It also explained the way it fit Link so well; small and efficient in the way someone as practical as he would like, a garden that had taken next to no effort to nurse back to flourishing, a stable with space for two horses, his and Zelda's.

The Princess simply watched him as he puzzled through the details, face kept deliberately even, water dripping from her bangs to her eyebrows and then down the curves of her temples, cheeks, chin. Of course she'd known about the amnesia brought on by Link's time in stasis; the way she'd asked him on the battlefield, so gently, if he remembered her, had proven that much to him. But she'd yet to watch him stumbling across these voids in memory, never seen him faced with the problem as obviously as this.

Link's chest ached, more strongly than it did when flashes of memory returned to him. It wasn't an ache of nostalgia. It was one of sadness, of something missing.

"Forget the surprise, then," he signed brusquely. His eyes fell from her face to the earth. "You know it better than I do."

Zelda let go of her mare's reigns and went to Link. Slowly, calculatingly, she grasped his shoulders. "Look at me, Link."

He did as he was told.

"I'm still surprised," she said. "I'm surprised that this house still stands. I'm surprised you've made it your home again." As she spoke, her face and voice softened. "The first time you brought me here, you surprised me just the same. You took me by the hand, made me close my eyes, and eased me through the door. You don't remember that day?"

Link squinted, his tear ducts prickling, and shook his head no.

"Well then," Zelda soothed. "Here's what I would like. I'd like to stable the horses, and then I'd like you to take my hand and lead me through that door, just like the first time."

Her tone lacked the authoritative ring of a command, but Link still felt it pull at his heart. Refusing to shed tears, he nodded a quick agreement. He let himself be soothed by Zelda's quick rub at his biceps before she let him go.

She called her mare quickly, without the bribe of food that Link needed. All it took was a few sharp clicks of the tongue, and both horses trotted happily to her to be stripped of their dressings. Link hauled the saddlebags and saddles to the shed as Zelda led the horses each into their stables, closing the gate behind them before circling around to free them of their bridles. It was a fairly quick process for her, apparently; she hopped the small fence to meet Link at the shed, where he was debating whether to haul the supplies from the saddlebags around the front.

"We'll come back for them," she insisted. “I want you to show me in first.”

Link nodded. He edged around Zelda, out of the shed, and around the corner of the house, right up to the front door. Unsure, he then turned to find Zelda skirting close behind him. At his glance, she smiled in that sudden, beaming way she had, and offered her left hand. Link took it in his right, and she quickly and sweetly shut her eyes.

“Slowly, now,” she urged.

“Yes,” he replied. With his free hand, he dug into one of the satchels around his waist and produced a key. The lock clunked satisfyingly open, and the door swung obligingly inward with the force. Then, with a swirl of strange emotion that Link didn’t stop to analyze, he slowly led his Princess in through the door.

It was exactly how he'd left it, minus a layer of dust. The little kitchen with it's square table, wood-fire oven, water pump, and wash basin was dominant on the first floor. The walls were adorned with each of the Champions' weapons and shields, too precious for Link to risk hauling around on the daily. Creaky stairs concealed the cupboard he used as an icebox and food storage, and led up to the loft. From his position at the front door, he couldn't see his bed and the chests he used to store his bedding and clothes, but he knew they'd be waiting faithfully for when he was ready to rest. It smelled musty, but familiar, like fried meat and wood-smoke. He couldn't wait to light the lamps hanging from the walls and ceiling, throw open the windows to let out the stale air, and really make this place home again, if only for a while.

Beside him, Zelda delicately cleared her throat.

Link, humming bashfully, pulled her further into the doorway. He turned to face her, backed into the room, and said, "Okay."

He watched Zelda's face as her eyelashes fluttered open and her eyes focused, first on him, then on the Champions' gear mounted on the wall behind him. Something like sadness ghosted across her face. She walked silently to the wall, until she reached the first mounted piece, Daybreaker. She turned to face it, and Link's stomach swooped as he realized that Zelda had last seen the shield strapped to Urbosa's back. Her last visit to this place had been when the Champions were still alive.

"Link," she said, voice heavy with emotion. "You truly have managed to surprise me today." She spun to face him again, and despite eyes sparkling with unshed tears, she beamed. "Thank you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The horses are named after my in-game ones; Princess, for the all-white royal-descended horse, and Apple, for the first brown pinto I caught. The anecdote about Apple not crossing the bridge willingly is based on my own inability to navigate the horses across small bridges in-game. The furniture is all of my own imagination, since it doesn't really make sense for someone to live in a house with nothing but a single bed, and I've taken some creative liberties with what's out in Link's yard. But, if you're feeling curious, go ahead and compare my writing to the in-game setting; I tried to match what's there to what I imagine would be there if Link used it more.
> 
> Thanks again for reading, and look forward to more soon.


	3. Chapter 3

The rest of the evening was spent in a flurry of activity. Their wet travel clothes were hung in the cool night air to dry, leaving them shivering in their damp underthings. Link hauled firewood in from the shed and started the stove burning, while Zelda used a rag from the basin to dust. Link lit the lanterns and lamps, so they cast the space in a warm, comfortable glow, and when the cool night air from the open windows caused them to sputter, Zelda took it upon herself to close them against the darkness. Link looked mournfully into his cupboard, which was barren save for a few bundles of herbs hung and dried on the walls. Even with the addition of the leftovers from their travel rations, it was a pitiful sight, and Link promised the Princess that he'd cook her a lovely dinner once he'd gotten to Hateno's marketplace tomorrow.

The Princess didn't much miss hot meals, it seemed, as she was completely unfettered by the empty cupboard. She kept remarking at the construction of the house, how well the Bolsons had preserved the original framework, and how honored she was to see Link had put the Champions' mementos in places of honor. Once they'd settled at the table with their disappointing meal of leftover rations and small wooden cups of water, she regaled him with tales of her first visit to the house; it had been completely empty on her first visit, and she'd had to nag and cajole Link into furniture. In those days, he'd cooked on an open fire in the yard until a wooden stove got installed for the winter. They'd work exhausting days with Purah as she tinkered with the Sheikah Slate, and return to the comfort of the house by night for a meal and a good rest. They'd returned for several visits, as the Slate needed repair and Zelda grew tired of responsibility.

"It was so… domestic," she sighed. "It made me wonder what life might have been like in different circumstances. If you weren't my Knight, and I not the Princess, and how we might have carried on."

Heat rose to Link's cheeks. Sticking his strip of jerky between his teeth, he signed, "Would we have lived together?"

Zelda laughed. "Maybe. Maybe we'd have been lovers, living off of your garden, and I'd have hiked up to Purah's lab and worked as her assistant."

The word "lovers" rang in Link's ears, louder than the rest of the sentence. He'd been able to cobble together his memories of their time together, and there had always been something of a tension between them on that front. Mipha had been enamored with him, though he'd been too preoccupied with his duties as Knight to really process how he'd felt about it. Of course, his heart had belonged to the Princess, as had his legs, his entire body, his sword. He'd been born to the Royal Guard, after all, and what would a Royal Guard be without the royalty that he guarded? The idea of romance was absurd, a waste of time while faced with the Calamity, and even if they had managed to win… There was still little chance that Link would have been allowed to truly fall for the Princess. She'd be married to royalty, perhaps in a politically advantageous coupling. She and Urbosa had always had an intimate friendship; perhaps they would have married and forged alliances between Hylian and Gerudo. Perhaps he'd have remained her knight forever, celibate in his duty, or perhaps he'd have been married into the Zora royalty and be forced to leave his Princess' side for good.

And now? Well… the Princess had goaded him about his flirtation with Prince Sidon for the entirety of their trip to the Domain, and he'd squirmed and blushed in embarrassment. Sidon was charming, yes, and Link had certainly basked in the endless praise and support Sidon had offered him as he fought the Calamity on his own. But as he'd remembered more and more of his Princess, as he'd recognized the endless longing that had pulled him out of stasis was in fact her voice, summoning him to her so that they could defeat the Calamity… Everything else paled in comparison. He could see himself nowhere, if not by her side.

He realized, with a creeping sense of shame, that Zelda had long since moved on from her anecdote and was now on a completely different topic. Something about what she wanted him to buy tomorrow, and his lack of enthusiasm about whatever dish she'd been requesting had caused her to stop talking altogether. She was now simply watching him, her green eyes impish and her nose wrinkled. She'd crossed her arms across her white shirt, legs at a proud angle in their frilly, knee-length bloomers. She'd caught him red-handed, again.

"Sorry," Link signed, "I'm tired." Surely the heat he could feel to the tips of his ears was the sign of a give-away blush, and surely the Princess could tell exactly what he was distracted over. But she was nothing if not merciful, and so she simply relaxed her expression into something kinder.

"Of course," she replied. "We've worked very hard to get here. We can make up the beds and retire, if you've eaten your fill."

Link slowly finished chewing his mouthful, and with a deliberate swallow, he signed, "Princess, how many beds were there in this house originally?"

"Two," she said. "How many are there now?"

"One." After her expression had turned puzzled, but before she could reply, he continued, "Don't worry, you can have it."

"Link," she sighed. 

He shook his head emphatically, rising from the table. "Let me fix it for you, Princess. Your clothing is in the bag at the door. You can change while I'm upstairs."

He hustled up the staircase before the Princess' sputtered reply could form into a real protest. Stupid, he berated himself, to not have thought to accommodate the Princess. And shameful, too. Had she expected him to share with her? Had she _wanted_ to share with him? No, it was improper on several levels; he tried not to let his head swim with the thoughts of it as he creaked open one of the trunks. This one had clothing; he peeled his damp tunic and riding pants off, as efficiently as he could, and threw on a knee-length nightshirt, lacing loose at the chest and neck, and a fresh pair of black linen drawers.

As he opened the other chest and pulled out the bedclothes, he pointedly didn't think about how, if he and Zelda shared the bed, he'd be able to feel her breath ghosting across his collarbones, or feel her bare legs press against his own. No, absolutely not. He snapped the sheets over the mattress, tucked in the loose ends, and picked the warmest quilt and most full cushion for the Princess, with the efficiency and care of one of her old chambermaids. He absolutely did not consider her chest, soft and unsupported without her riding girdle, and how it would feel for her to press against his side through their formless nightclothes--

No. What would he line the floor with to sleep? He briefly considered his travel bedroll, but it was currently in the shed, among the saddles and other wet traveling gear hung to dry. He returned to the trunk to consider his options as he noticed Zelda blowing out the lights downstairs. The house's amber glow softened, until it seemed the loft was a dimly-lit island floating in grey darkness, kept alight by its single bedside lantern. He chose a few spare blankets and sheets from the chest, and set to layering them on the floor beside the bed.

Zelda ascended the stairs with a lamp in her left hand and the powered-down Sheikah Slate in her right. The glow of the lamp illuminated her loose hair to a golden sheen; she hadn’t bothered to braid it, though she'd obviously brushed out the worst of the knotting from their travels. She was back in that yellowed nightgown, and it dragged on the floor as she approached him. She could have been a ghost from his past, as ethereal and glowing as the ghost of the King had once been. “Well,” she said frankly, gesturing to Link’s makeshift nest. “This looks pitiful so far.”

He looked at the result of his efforts. The bed was pushed into the corner, just under where the ceiling sloped up and away from the wall. There was just enough space between the bed and Link’s gathering of blankets for the bedside table, where the lantern was burning away. The far border of his makeshift bed was rolled against the bars of the banisters, to keep him from rolling into the hard wood or sticking his foot through a gap. 

“It’s fine,” Link insisted.

She tiptoed around Link’s bedding on the floor, looking skeptical, and then sat, unsure, on the bed. “Truly, Link, I wouldn’t mind sharing to keep you off the floor.”

“No,” he said aloud. Didn’t Zelda see the problem with this situation, the impropriety of the Knight sleeping beside the Princess? He raised his hands, lowered them in embarrassment, then signed, “It’s not proper.”

“Oh, you sound like my father,” she said. “We’re on holiday, Link. There are no nosy stable-hands here to spread rumors, or monsters lurking in the dark for you to watch. We aren’t sleeping in shifts anymore.” As Link watched her, hands balling and un-balling to avoid interrupting her, she set the Sheikah slate on the bedside table. “Do you remember the night at the Spring of Power?”

Oh, yes, he’d definitely ruminated over that one. Zelda had been in her ceremonial prayer dress, submerged to the waist, and her praying had turned to a desperate plea. She’d begun to sob, and the pitiful sound had startled Link desperately. He hadn’t known how to help, but he decided with little thought that he should follow his instinct to protect. Flinging his sword and shield away, he'd splashed rather ungracefully into the pool. So deep was the Princess’ sorrow, she didn’t stir to the sound, or to the great waves Link’s steps stirred around her. He’d stooped, swept her up into his arms, and carried her back to the shore. It’d only struck him, as he climbed to dry land and brought the sniffling Princess back to their camp, that she’d crossed her arms over her chest to shiver, face buried in his quickly-soaking shirt. She was embarrassed. Her soaked dress was entirely translucent, and he could see every bit of her pale body bundled in his arms. It had barely registered until the light of the campfire began to illuminate the details, but by then it was too late; he'd looked, mindlessly yet thoroughly, and the Princess knew it. He’d tried his best to be gentlemanly, to bring her directly to her tent to allow her a moment of privacy, but the memory always stirred a conflicted feeling in his stomach. He didn’t regret trying to comfort the Princess, and she’d never shown any kind of anger or displeasure for it, but still…

That had also been entirely improper.

He blushed to the roots of his hair as the image of the Princess’ milky skin, prickled with goosebumps at the cold water and night air, swum through his mind. He tried, and failed, to decouple it with the figure sitting in front of him. “I remember,” he signed, feeling his face blaze. He'd gotten her point, very clearly, but didn't know how to proceed. As he was failing to concoct a level-headed response that wasn't tinged with the image of her in half-dress, he instead opted for, “I apologize.” He avoided her eyes as he stepped into his blankets, sat down, and bundled himself into place for the night.

He didn’t turn to look, but he heard Zelda’s response. She chuckled, then waited a minute to see if Link would suddenly gain a bit of maturity. When he didn't, she said, "Okay, then. Perhaps we’ll be in a better mood to discuss tomorrow. Goodnight, oh virtuous Knight.”

Of course, he knew that she wasn’t done with him. She was stubborn, and if she wanted to have this conversation, it would eventually happen. For now, though, she simply put out the lamps, and allowed silence to fall in the darkness.

This had never really been destined as a night of good rest, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The burn begins. Once again, I tinker with canon a little. Hope you all don't mind.
> 
> Thanks again, and stay tuned for more! C:


	4. Chapter 4

Link hadn’t found too much trouble falling into sleep; once he found a position that kept his hip bones from pressing into the wooden floor, the weariness from his travel pulled him under almost immediately. The sleep definitely wasn’t restful, though, for his dreams had been disquieted, an odd mix of memory and fantasy.

Confusingly, he was reliving his first teenaged tryst in the Hyrule Castle barracks before he’d been appointed Knight. He remembered the early conversations with the boy he’d romped with, awkward in his inexperience, but Link had known he had a leg-up. It was common knowledge that Link was heritage, born into the Royal Guard, and naturally charming to boot. Despite being a person of few words, he tended to attract attention. It hadn’t taken much before he and the other recruit tumbled into Link’s bed while they were supposed to be eating lunch. In his dream, he straddled over the young man, pinning his wrists over his head and grinding his hips bruisingly against the other boy’s-- Link couldn’t remember the recruit’s name, but he hoped he’d known it at one point. Their bare chests slicked and stuck together in odd ways, and though the fabric of their trousers was maddening, the risk that other recruits could enter the bunk room at any minute was too high. As he dropped his head to bury it in the boy’s neck, tasting salt at his pulse point, the scene seemed to shift; when he pulled back, his face, previously dulled and blurry, sharpened. The boy’s eyes were green, eyelashes long and blonde, lips cracked, and it took a second stretched into infinity to realize that this was Zelda’s face, blinking slow and sweet up at him.

His breath, once heavy, caught in his throat. This couldn’t be right; he was a Knight, faithful, composed, and he certainly didn’t fumble around with royalty like a hormonal whelp who didn’t know his place. He wanted to free her wrists, to hide from the green eyes that seemed to be boring into his own, but his body would not obey. He opened his mouth, suddenly dry, to ask how-- why--

With that, Link shocked awake, with a sensation like falling back into his body. He’d flung his blankets off, and was sweating like a beast of burden. His hair stuck in clumps to his forehead. The evidence of what he’d been dreaming was straining against his trousers. With sudden paranoia that Zelda could sense what he’d been thinking even in her sleep, he bolted up to look at her. Of course, she was resting peacefully. She held the duvet under her chin, and he could tell that her knees were drawn comfortably up in a delicate curl. She was the picture of innocence.

He, meanwhile, felt practically dizzy. He strained his eyes for the windows; outside, the sky had only lightened a fraction, and most sensible people would still have a few hours yet to rest.

He thought for a while to join those reasonable people. He re-settled into his bedding, willing his heart to stop racing for what felt like an eternity. The hard floor seemed to be petrifying beneath him, growing more uncomfortable and unyielding by the second. He pretended at sleep for as long as he could justify. Soon, though, it grew apparent that he’d missed his chance at more rest. He was awake, for better or worse.

If he couldn’t rest, he could at least make himself useful. He stood, stretched his stiff back, and folded his bedding neatly into the corner. Making sure the Princess still slept, he eased open a trunk and pulled out his clothing for the day: fresh underthings, soft work trousers, and a tunic of sturdy brown cotton. He thought, briefly, of armor; even a pair of enchanted earrings, from the jewelry box hidden deep in the chest, would have afforded him a bit of extra protection, but he had to convince himself that this was a holiday. Still feeling like his ensemble was lacking, he grabbed his only towel and descended the stairs.

The wash basin was big enough to bathe in, for good purpose. He would usually boil at least one bucket to be able to bathe in warm water instead of cold, but he decided embracing the effect of a cold bath would be good for him today. He worked the water pump to gather just enough water to wash up with; this was going to be as utilitarian of a bath as he’d ever had. Ever-conscious of any sounds that might indicate Zelda stirring, he stripped with military efficiency, climbed into the tub, and clenched his teeth as he began his bath. As he worked the sad, dried bar of soap over his skin and into his hair, he began the list for the day’s shopping: first, new soap.

After his wash, he scrubbed dry, using the towel to wring out the worst of the water from his hair and twisted it back up into its leather tie. He unplugged the drain, and the water was whisked out of a pipe and into the garden. Beside the basin, the fire in the stove had died down significantly. He added wood and stoked it back to roaring.

Come to think of the garden, it was late spring. Perhaps the odd tuber had survived the winter’s frost and would make for less produce he’d have to buy later. Slipping out of the house was quiet and simple, and Link was suddenly greeted by the cool morning air and clear, lightening morning sky of Hateno. The green hills rolled into the horizon around him, and the river gushed with the results of yesterday’s storm. It was beautiful, peaceful, homey and new all at once. He thanked the Goddess that he and his Princess had managed to return here, alive and well.

Once Link had turned over the dirt in the garden, he’d produced a bucketful of carrots and potatoes. They were likely to be bitter, but they’d be fine if boiled in a stock. His mind drifted to food, and all of the dishes he might impress the Princess with now that he had access to fresh butter and cream. Unbidden, he remembered himself and Zelda, standing over a cooking fire near the house. Link had been picking a too-thick crepe off the bottom of the pan with heat-calloused fingers. He'd already cooked the filling, finely diced apples in a thick sauce of honey and butter, and Zelda was holding the concoction in a bowl. At Link's gesture, she rushed forward, and poured too much filling into the waiting crepe. The rich filling spat and sizzled as he folded the bundle, first in half, and then in thirds, plucking at the edges with his bare fingers. Nearly frantic, he fumbled for the spoon, scooped out the waiting slop of a crepe, and immediately started again with more batter. Zelda laughed, her voice clear like a bell despite the memory's fuzzy edges, and said, "What a damned mess!"

Zelda's favorite fruit was apples. How could he have forgotten?

He swiveled his head, to the apple tree behind the stables. Had it always been there? Had Zelda stood on tip-toes, plucking apples from the branches? It seemed absurd that he couldn't recall.

The horses chuffed in the foreground of his sight, curious at what goodies Link might be carrying. He plucked a carrot from his bucket, snapped it in half, and shuffled over to the paddocks with thoughts still swirling. He fed them their snack one at a time, then swung the gates open to let the horses out grazing.

The apple tree remained in the corner of his vision, drawing his attention. Apples were practically always in season in Hateno, save for winter, so the tree could have grown sometime in his hundred-year absence. He carried his produce over to the tree, and added to his bounty by plucking a few of the fruits from the lowest branches. Zelda would need breakfast, after all.

Upon reentering the house, said Princess was still deeply asleep. The creaking of the inward-swinging door didn't wake her. Link even tried calling her name into the half-dark room, not expecting a response. If the sounds of the bath and the door hadn’t disturbed her, his call definitely wouldn’t.

He dreaded stirring her, but it would need to be done if they were to catch any good produce from the markets. He again imagined himself as one of Zelda’s old chambermaids. He’d tie his hair back so tightly that it would thin at the temples, and wear a stained white apron around his waist. His morning would be spent hauling pail after pail of boiled water up to her private chambers, and afterward he’d wake her gently, if she wasn't already up reading, and serve her a breakfast of pastry and tea while the bathwater cooled to a comfortable temperature.

Well, there would be no chambermaids for quite some time-- not until the castle was rebuilt and Zelda had reclaimed her throne, at least. In the meantime, breakfast and bathwater would still need tending, and Link was nothing if not a faithful devotee of the Princess.

The tin bucket by the basin, ready for just this purpose, was easy enough to swing under the spigot. He let it fill, then carried it over to the cooking stove. The fire got a good stir, so that the flames licked the iron plate that usually served as the seat of a pot or pan. Content in his work, he spun to the table, where his freshly-picked produce still waited. He put aside a pair of apples, and the rest he brought to the pantry. The root vegetables would last without chilling, and so were placed on a shelf. The icebox, a crate half-full with white Chuchu jelly, was ready for whatever perishable goods the market would have in store.

He retrieved a knife, cutting-board, mug and bowl from the pantry, and returned to his apples. It wasn't pastry, or even a hastily-cooked crepe, but it would make decent breakfast all the same. He first filled the mug with fresh water. Next, he cut the fruits' flesh from their cores, then cut the little domes into thin slices. The slices went into the bowl, the cores went out the back window to the midden, and the cutlery went back to it's spot in the cupboard. Domestic, he thought, and tried not to flush.

Breakfast in hand, Link ascended to the loft. Zelda had shifted in her sleep, and was now on her back, one hand slung over her stomach and her hair in wild disarray around her. Her face was cherubic in sleep, despite the wet patch of drool at the corner of her mouth. He double-checked his pants to make sure no garden dirt would hitchhike its way into the bedding before taking a ginger seat at the Princess’ side. “Zelda,” he whispered, and shook her shoulder with his free hand. “Princess.”

It took a few tries to get her to stir, but eventually she heaved a deep breath, wrinkled her face in displeasure, and blinked blearily up at him. “Morning,” she said in his direction. Green eyes soft with sleep and cracked lips parting into a smile set Link’s heart hammering, and he turned his face before she could notice his expression.

She took a moment to compose herself, propping up against the headboard and smoothing back her wild halo of hair. He waited until she called his name to turn back to her, and placed the apple slices on the bed between them. "I got you something to eat," he signed.

She grinned first at the bowl of fruit, then at him. "Thank you," she said, voice thin, and wasted no time in tucking in. She ate three, took a deep pull from the mug of water, then teased at him, "Prepared as ever."

Link eyed her. The corners of her eyes were crusted with sleep, and she wiped her face with her sleeve to clean up the drool. It wasn't like he'd never looked at her face, but he was afraid the Princess might smell his guilt.

Seeming to notice his mood, Zelda plucked her next apple slice from the bowl with a bit of an edge. "You know," she told the fruit, "I'd be scolded in the Castle for speaking with my mouth full. Goddess forbid my Knight enter my chambers unannounced. And, of course…" She placed it delicately in her mouth, chewed, then dribbled, "these rules should follow me outside of the castle."

He could practically read her thoughts. She was thinking of their time spent traveling, in search of her powers. The boundaries had been unsure, strained. Most of the decorum had remained in place, until the two of them had begun seeing eye-to-eye. Boundaries relaxed somewhat as they spent more time alone. Link had been shocked to his core when Zelda insisted they try sleeping in shifts; while Link's will was legendary, he was still only flesh and blood, and no use to her while severely sleep-deprived. Zelda, in turn, had been shocked to watch Link slurp from a bowl and pick his teeth with his fingernails at fireside meals; once, he'd accidentally belched, and wouldn't meet her eye for hours afterward.

They'd both adapted as their situation changed.

"I understand," he signed, and she quirked a smile at him through her mouthful of food. He took an apple slice himself, grateful for the excuse to quiet both his hands and his mouth.

"It's all new," she told him. "We're learning day-by-day how this new Hyrule works. The fun thing is, this week, we get to decide who to be."

He nodded, deciding carefully how to respond. Finally, he settled on, "For now, I'm a chambermaid. I put on water to boil for your bath."

“I knew there was a reason I picked you as my Knight. The most loyal and deadly Hylian in the land, and I’ve got him warming my bathwater.”

They laughed together, easy and relaxed. They finished their breakfast quickly, at Link's reminder that they needed to get to market. He mused about soap, vegetables, flour, butter, and meat. As they spoke, Link fished the washcloth he usually used with tooth powder to clean his teeth. “Add a few inches of cold so it doesn’t scald you,” he insisted. “Here’s a cloth, and the towel is hanging next to the fire.”

“I can finish the bath, thank you,” she said. "I'll meet you outside when I'm ready."

Link fetched linen bags from the pantry to carry their groceries as Zelda began running her tap. "We'll need to buy tooth powder," she mused, "and perhaps some other toiletries. Oh, and I'd like to see the tailor."

Link left her to bathe, and stepped back out into the now late-morning sun. He wandered to the pond, squatting over the still-damp grass, and set to watching the small fish and frogs swim.

As usual, the Princess took her time in getting ready. Link was just about to rise to check on her when she finally came out of the house. She was in the only casual outfit she’d had to pack; soft leather breeches Link had given her the day she’d been freed from the Calamity, a touch too short for her but covered by tall riding boots, and a loose and flowing top salvaged from the castle. Yellowed with age and reflecting sunlight, the shirt put Link in the mind of the soft, yellow flowers that often shot up around the garden’s tilled border. Her hair, damp from bathing, was twisted into a top-knot, and her throat seemed impossibly pale and slender.

“I need clothes,” she announced, either oblivious to Link’s gaze or ignoring it.

“Uh,” Link replied, and scrambled to his feet to join her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter fought me so hard... I guess finished is better than perfect. Hope you enjoy! C:

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to write a fic where Zelda and Link got stuck sharing a bed, and before I knew it I was poring over the in-game map and taking screenshots of the inside of Link's house. It was supposed to be quick, and now I've written three chapters and counting. I tried stupidly hard to keep it canon compliant, but I've definitely also taken a few liberties. Let's just have fun with it.
> 
> Thank you for reading, and please let me know if you'd like to see this fic continue!


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